<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Damian's First Day as CEO...with Benefits by Titans_R_Us</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25390408">Damian's First Day as CEO...with Benefits</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Titans_R_Us/pseuds/Titans_R_Us'>Titans_R_Us</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Batman - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Damian is a closet romantic and you can pry that headcanon out of my dead cold hands, Established Relationship, Fluffy, M/M, No underage, SFW but suggestive, Tender - Freeform, office sex aftermath, present for tim drake scavenger hunt, soft</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 12:20:42</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,061</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25390408</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Titans_R_Us/pseuds/Titans_R_Us</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“Stop fidgeting.”<br/>Damian fidgets a moment more just for spite. His fingers fiddle with his cufflinks, clicking the pieces of silver shut one at a time, while Beloved fusses and huffs buttoning up the front of Damian’s shirt.<br/>“Are you nervous?”<br/>“With you by my side? Never.”<br/><em>“Then stand still. </em>We’re going to be late if you keep this up,” his lover warns with a scolding look.<br/>“It would not be the first time, nor the last for the CEO to be late to a board meeting.”</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Tim Drake/Damian Wayne</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>214</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Damian's First Day as CEO...with Benefits</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/nighttmr/gifts">nighttmr</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This was my present to Nighttmr for the Tim Drake Birthday Scavenger Hunt, Rahndom and Bee Lynn put on. It was fun to write for someone and participate in the challenge. I hope you guys like this fluffy short piece too. :D</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Stop fidgeting.”</p>
<p>Damian fidgets a moment more just for spite. His fingers fiddle with his cufflinks, clicking the pieces of silver shut one at a time, while Beloved fusses and huffs buttoning up the front of Damian’s shirt.</p>
<p>“Are you nervous?”</p>
<p>“With you by my side? Never.”</p>
<p><em>“Then stand still. </em>We’re going to be late if you keep this up,” his lover warns with a scolding look.</p>
<p>“It would not be the first time, nor the last for the CEO to be late to a board meeting.” Damian returns. He reaches down to tuck his shirttails into his pants and frowns when his zipper catches, the metal teeth biting for a moment when pulling it up.</p>
<p>“I thought you wanted to set ‘new precedents’,” A smirk tugs on the lips of that lovely face while their eyes sparkle with mirth. “You said you wanted to be the <em>responsible one</em>. At least that’s what you’ve been telling me ever since you were ten. Always storming in here to claim your rightful place.” It was not the only thing Damian wished to claim. Especially as he grew older and older. It was difficult not to admire the sharp efficiency, the clever ruthlessness wrapped into a lithe almost <em>pretty</em> frame. Something deep inside him purrs with dark satisfaction as soft hands smooth down his front, trying with limited success to get rid of the wrinkles. Perhaps the suit coat will be sufficient to hide the disheveled look? It was thrown over the back of the chair at one point when they were in much haste. It’s possible the garment avoided the worst of the harsh treatment when they were tearing at each others’ clothes.</p>
<p>Damian had been in a hurry. He regrets nothing.</p>
<p>“One could say I am merely following in my father’s footsteps,” Damian offers, raising one eyebrow at the other. “An office tryst or two, does not seem out of place for his persona.”</p>
<p>Timothy smacks his arm soundly.</p>
<p>“In fact, more incidences such as these may help distance our two identities. It is a tried and proven tactic that father employs. For who has connected the mysterious Batman with the flirtatious rake, Bruce Wayne?”</p>
<p>Tim hits him again.<em> “We are not making this a habit.” </em>Timothy turns to hunt down his own clothes. He may have trouble. Damian has the superior aim and his darling’s pants flutter and dangle on the ceiling fan that turns in slow circles. He hasn’t noticed their location yet. Excellent.</p>
<p>Damian sighs softly, taking in the wonderful view.</p>
<p>There’s an artistic line of red marks trailing down that pale spine. He loved making each one. The back of Timothy’s thighs are deliciously pink and Damian believes that the bruising on those thin wrists and hips will darken beautifully. He cannot wait to see what purple or green hues emerge. He licks his lips. Yes, he must persuade Beloved to include this kind of venture in their weekly, no <em>daily</em> routine. If he worships and soothes the evidence of their passion that night, can he manage it? After all, his back still stings with the teasing scratches left behind whenever he rolls his shoulders.</p>
<p>“Will you miss this position? Being chief executive officer?”</p>
<p>Timothy scoffs, “Will I miss being in the limelight? Will I miss all the reporters,<em> like Vicki Vale</em>, interrogating me, the youngest man in charge of a billion-dollar company like the Wayne Foundation? Will I miss being the face of the company and being forced to go to every board meeting, expo, and charity ball, Tam can blackmail me into? <em>No</em>.”</p>
<p>Damian scowls when Timothy finds his boxers, glares at the offending garment when it slides over nicely toned legs, hiding some of Damian’s most favorite parts of his dearest. What a shame. Next time he should throw them out the window...or pocket them. How pleasant it could be to sit next to the man during a conference and know assuredly that <em>nothing</em> lies beneath.</p>
<p>“It is not as if you can escape her grasp. You have not stepped down, but to the side as CFO.”</p>
<p>Timothy throws one of Damian’s leather oxford shoes at him. He catches it in midair and the older man makes a face. “Only because the two of you ganged up on me. Listing reports of productivity and predictions, <em>lying predictions,</em> of what would happen if I just walked away. I can’t believe you would change your mind about kicking me out of the company at nineteen.”</p>
<p>When Timothy’s back is turned, Damian kicks his lover’s gray dress shirt further under the desk. “I changed my mind in my sixteenth year, it was not a recent decision by any means. I am also surprised. How could you be so willing to abandon a post you strived most ardently to gain in the first place?”</p>
<p>“Yeah,” Timothy snorts, scanning the room, his head searching low and high. “Most ardently to keep it out your grandfather’s hands. Now that Ra’s apparently lost interest in wrecking Bruce’s legacy. I could have retired.”</p>
<p>Damian hums in passive agreement. Grandfather has shifted interest over the years. He does not appreciate where his obsession lies now.</p>
<p>“I could have retired. I had a plan. I was going to be one of those rich recluses that hang out at animal shelters, buying hundreds of cats and dogs just because Bruce never let me have one as a kid.”</p>
<p>“You can still do that and manage payroll for our employees at the same time. I shall help. Selina likes me best and will gladly show me where to acquire more animals. You desire to start an animal sanctuary? A menagerie? Done.”</p>
<p>“Later,” Timothy grumbles, he stalks over to the heavy mahogany desk, reaching under it. The whole thing’s a mess truly, new copies of paperwork will need to be made immediately. “Now get off my shirt.”</p>
<p>Damian places one foot on the pressed shirt and shifts most of his weight on top of it. Timothy growls and bends over to tug at it sharply. “Off or I’ll kick your leg in!”</p>
<p>“How vicious.” Damian lovingly cups Timothy’s face and smiles down at him. Every day, he finds himself grateful that this body of his takes after his father’s. In the glass of the windows, their reflection is magnificent. His broad large shoulders, his musculature, the way he can easily loom over Timothy. His thumb possessively rubs over silken thin lips. “Grayson and Pennyworth have said many a time that using the word <em>please</em> is the best way to get one’s way. Perhaps Beloved should use it. I won’t deny him.”</p>
<p>Timothy narrows his eyes and nips the pad of his thumb. Damian’s blood pounds with heat. “<em>Please</em> get off my shirt...and get my fucking pants down.”</p>
<p>Damian pouts but bends down, down to press a kiss on Timothy’s forehead, right on the furrow of his brow. “As you wish.”</p>
<p>He stops impeding Timothy’s efforts to dress. He hops lightly to snatch and return his pants to the man. Damian did <em>not</em> engage in what Richard would call a ‘tug-a-war’ with the article of clothing, no matter what Beloved says. He even helps Timothy put on his shoes! He has no idea why Timothy protests and makes such a fuss when his hands find themselves back on those petite hips once more to lift and place him back on top of the desk. It’s a sweet mimicry of memory.</p>
<p>“Stop manhandling me!”</p>
<p>Damian tuts. “You did not mind me doing so twenty minutes ago.” He kneels, placing one of Timothy’s feet on his thighs to lace up his shoes. He thinks of kissing the leather but shakes the distracting thought loose. Instead, he fixes the other shoe on and brings it to his face. His pointer finger pushes down the sock out of place, and yes the jut of bone at the ankle is a better place to suck and <em>bite</em>. Much more hygienic.</p>
<p>
  <em>“Dami!”</em>
</p>
<p>“What concerns you? It will not show.” He scrapes over the new hickey with his teeth, looking up at Timothy half-defiant, half-hungry.</p>
<p>A sharp intake of breath. “Stop that.”</p>
<p>It is unfortunate that all escapades must come to an end. The liquid honey in his veins pulses when he recalls their wonderful morning. He asks, no pleads, “Must we really leave?”</p>
<p>“Yes, Damian. We must leave and do our jobs.”</p>
<p>Despite his strong will, Damian’s shoulders sag into a crestfallen state. He fixes Timothy’s sock mournfully and raises to stand once more.</p>
<p>A pause. Timothy’s eyes look to the side. Then he gives a loud sigh. “Come here. We need to redo your tie.” He gestures Damian to stand between his legs and holds up the piece of silk.</p>
<p>“...I do not want that one,” he objects.</p>
<p>Timothy’s eyebrows shoot up. “Let me guess, you want the red one, <em>my red one</em> now,” he says wryly.</p>
<p>Damian nods and plants his hands by Timothy’s hips, flanking his sides as he hovers. When their faces are close enough, their mouths barely a few hair widths apart, he murmurs, <em>“Please, Beloved?”</em></p>
<p><em>“You are going to kill me.”</em> Damian swears he can almost feel those words over his lips. But he does feel one quick, strong peck on his mouth before Timothy shoves him back a foot or so. “Give me some space, you’ll look best with an Eldridge knot. It’s complicated, just like you.”</p>
<p>The tie slithers around his collar and Damian watches Timothy concentrate, working the crimson folds. His tongue peaks out at one point and Damian is wrecked helpless, wondering if the action is adorable or seductive. Both. It must be both.</p>
<p>“There, done,” he states proudly, smoothing it down. He offers Damian his coat and like a buffoon, Damian takes it. Before Damian can return the service, Timothy drags the remaining black tie over his head and twists it in a simple Oriental knot. It takes him the five seconds, Damian wastes on his suit jacket.</p>
<p>Damian likes his tie on Timothy. He likes it very much. Yet Timothy refuses to let Damian show his appreciation over his attire...again. Instead, the smaller man takes his arm and marches him to the door and Damian attempts to find his former enthusiasm about his first day as boss. He fails.</p>
<p>Timothy notices. It is not as if Damian is dragging his heels, per se, but his dejected body language is quite apparent. Before the door, Timothy mutters, “Look. If...if we get there in time, if we focus and get the annual report done early, if we sacrifice ourselves to the whims of our supreme overlord Tam Fox for the next two to three hours...I’ll let you bind me to the headboard with our ties tonight, okay?”</p>
<p>Damian’s previous good mood returns instantly. “You swear?” He perks up.</p>
<p>The silk ties would be a perfect contrast next to Timothy’s sweet skin. He needs to see what they would look like when said skin is flushed. He longs to know what would suit Beloved better, red or black?</p>
<p>“You are the worst brat ever, but yes, I promise.” Timothy teases, “Now let’s destroy some corporate lives.”</p>
<p>With one hand on the doorknob and one on a tie, Damian pulls, dragging Timothy’s face up to his own for a kiss. “I could work with that incentive, Beloved.” He says against that swollen mouth, turning his kisses from chaste to drugging, devouring.</p>
<p>Timothy rolls his eyes, trying to catch his breath when he breaks away. “You’re lucky I spoil you rotten.”</p>
<p>“You indulge me the amount that is due. Never fear, I shall return the favor.”</p>
<p>And Damian does.</p>
<p>After the meeting.</p>
<p>After work at Timothy’s safehouse with the largest softest bed they possess.</p>
<p>After the crack of dawn, when Damian can pull Timothy close and safe.</p>
<p>He shall repay the favor for as long as he can, for as long as Beloved will allow.</p>
<p>After all, Timothy does spoil him rotten...rotten with happiness.</p>
<p>It’s only fair he does the same.</p>
<p>With the morning light drifting through the blinds and catching in Timothy’s hair, the man still asleep in his arms, a swell of...love, of devotion, of <em>forever </em>fills Damian’s chest.</p>
<p>He takes a long, deep breath through the nose and lets it out.</p>
<p>It’s time to start a new day.</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>